


Storybook Scars

by LightningClawedSky



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mentions of a past drug addiction for 777, Scar kisses, Scars, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 01:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18954919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningClawedSky/pseuds/LightningClawedSky
Summary: It's summer, it's hot, and Sho can't sleep, even though 777 clearly can. To entertain himself in the meantime, he watches his boyfriend sleep and admires him, his tattoos, and the scars that litter his body.





	Storybook Scars

**Author's Note:**

> A more self indulgent piece; unedited.

For some reason, Sho just couldn't sleep. He was tossing and turning, tangling himself up in blankets before he finally sighed in defeat, turning to face 777 sleeping soundly. Maybe it was from the heat? It was summer, after all, and aside from 777’s hands and feet, the rest of his body was just a  _ heater _ .

The singer seemed to be in a deep sleep, his sides going up and down slowly with every breath, his body was relaxed and peaceful, almost free from the stress of the day to day life. Usually, 777 would fall asleep behind Sho, their arms and legs wrapped around in a tangled hug, if you could even call it  _ that _ . However, today 777 was exhausted, working himself until he began to nod off at his notepad writing lyrics. He was practically asleep before he hit the bed!

Sho watched the singer sleep in an almost content silence, watching his rhythmic breathing was comforting, almost trance like. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. Hey, 777 was asleep anyways, he didn't need to see or even  _ know _ about Sho being any amount of grossly in love with him.

Eyes drifted to the singers tattoos. Even though he and Sev had known each other for a long time, he couldn't actually recall paying that much attention to the tattoos besides what 777 had told him. It wasn't like 777 was physically ever in the position where Sho could see them; he was either in his back or behind the artist, as if he  _ didn't _ want them to be revealed.

Which to that, Sho couldn't blame them. Their purpose was to cover up the scars that littered the singer's back. Even if they were bright and filled with artistry, the truth underneath was dark and dull. Hide and cover up the past, just so 777 would be able to look up and see the future.

_ “It was so bad; I was at th'point where I didn't like lookin’ at myself in the mirror.” _ 777 had said, his voice almost distant, drowned in memories.  _ “I had t'get them covered up, t'hide them, jus’ so I could feel whole again.” _

777 surprisingly added, “ _ Ya can touch 'em, if ya want. Just...just be gentle.” _ Though, at the time, Sho declined. It wasn't like he was new to scars; hell, his own back was covered in them too. Sure, the memories around them sometimes were painful, but at the end of the day, to him it wasn't much more than missing chunks of flesh. He was still the same person, regardless of his past.

But for 777? It was something he was ashamed off. To him, these scars weren't brandishing from battles that he won; instead each scar felt like a mockery along his skin, cackling about how different he is now, compared to his past. It was a history that the singer could not bury and cover up, no matter how hard he tried and  _ wanted _ to.

Sho's fingers idly traced the singers backside, fingers gently going along the black outlines. It was almost nice to just stare and admire the tattoos. They didn't all match up, and 777 said that some he got for fun without any real meaning behind it (beyond covering up scars, that is.) Even so, each tattoo was an art piece. Time and care was put into it, after all. The skull and flames, the spine and wings, hell even the anarchy symbol and rose; they were all nice separate pieces on their own, but together is what helped make them  _ 777’s _ tattoos. Together, they  _ had _ meaning.

When his fingers accidentally brushed the edge of a scar, earning a shiver from the sleeping singer, Sho stopped, his finger hovering in place.

Truth be told, he didn't really expect 777 to react at  _ all _ to the gentle touches, considering how deep of a sleeper he was, but here he was in that  _ exact _ predicament.

Sho's eyes went from scar to scar, briefly wondering the story on how the singer got them. Sho was only told about a few, the bigger ones mostly.

_ “I got these two from a time someone stabbed me durin’ a fight.” _

_ “This baby's from a time I was tresspassin’ and ended up fallin’ into a barbwire fence.” _

_ “And this ones from a bullet that barely missed anythin’ important.” _

It was odd when 777 told Sho about his scars. His voice was  _ almost _ prideful of them, but that wasn't the truth. It was a forced pride, stemming from stupid mistakes and a past he told good bits and pieces of when he felt like it was appropriate for the conversation they were having.

_ "What about this one?" Sho asked, pointing to a scar on the broad area where 777's shoulder connected to his neck. It stood out from the rest; it was small, just a nick in the skin, but it was deep, clearly a chunk of skin was missing from the singer. _

_ "Oh that...that one came from my dad." 777 never said anything more. Sho felt his edges soften; was this sympathy? He shouldn't have pried for the story like that. _

_ "Don't worry. It's fine." _

Hell, it wasn't like Sho had talked about his own scars too, but 777 never asked so why even bother?

Sho just knew that the other felt like he had ruined his body beyond repair.

777 was like a storybook that was locked. You knew that there was a lot to him, but finding the right key to open up was difficult. It wasn't like Sho was going to press for anything; 777 could tell him shit on his own time, when  _ he _ felt comfortable. Sue Sho for being a  _ bit _ curious, though, and sometimes slipping as a result.

Sho gently pulled 777 closer, being mindful where he placed his hands since he didn't want 777 to stir anymore. He needed to sleep for  _ once _ .

He wrapped his arms around the blonde's pale body, pressing his face into the neck of the singer, breathing in the scent of shampoo of his silky soft hair. Hey,  _ fuck you. _ If 777 was allowed to pull this shit on  _ him _ , he can do it  _ right _ back. It wasn't like Sho slightly  _ enjoyed _ it at all. (Okay, maybe a little, but no one else needed to know.  _ Especially _ not 777.)

For a while, Sho stayed like that, gently rocking himself back and forth while holding the singer, humming softly. Even though both were sweaty and hot, there was comfort in the motion. It was as if Sho was trying to comfort 777 for the part of the existence he was so ashamed of, he had the need to cover it up with bright and intricate designs.

In an idle motion, Sho held 777's hand, bringing it up close to his face. He placed a kiss on the heavily scarred knuckles. They they the only scars the singer had admitted to that he did not feel anything, and he had never even bothered tattooing because he kept adding to them in the form of extinguishing cigarettes on his skin. 777 didn't care too much; even without the scars the feeling in his hands were null and cold due to a drug addiction in his past.

Sho held 777's hand to his face, looking down and eyeing the lineart of tattoos that curled their way up to the very edges of the singer's wrist. The faintest of lines could be visible through the ink, discolored scar tissue healed from the sharp edges of a blade. It was also the only scars 777 made no acknowledgement to, the only ones he actively ignored the existence of. He never mentioned them, never talked about them, but Sho was far from stupid and knew exactly what it was

Sho felt a moment of pity for the singer, briefly wondering what hurt could someone endure that breaks them so much emotionally, that their only relief is to break their own skin? A person, or multiple? An incident? Sho wished he knew, but he would never ask.

Emotions were just as fragile as skin.

All he hoped, was that he'd never be the reason, and that he'd love 777 enough. Not enough to take the past and wash it away, but enough for the singer to know that because he was loved so intensely, so  _ intimately _ by others, not just fans, he should also love himself.

It would never wash the pain of the past away, but it would bring the love of today and the hope of tomorrow.

Sho placed a quick kiss on the back of the singers neck. It was fairly late now, and the gear was starting to subside, but it wasn't as if the mathematician had even noticed, losing himself in his thoughts and his internal vow of loving 777.

“Sweet dreams,  _ porcupine _ .”

 


End file.
